


star-crossed lovers: the rebelcaptain collection

by cassandor



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Deleted Scenes, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, POV Cassian Andor, POV Jyn Erso, Sharing a Bed, Tumblr Prompt, something for everyone tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-11-09 01:44:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 12,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11094306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassandor/pseuds/cassandor
Summary: every one of my prompt fills for @rebelcaptainprompts that isn't already part of a series. each chapter is independent (check individual summaries for info).complete with prompt 20!





	1. stardust to stardust.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of starstuff.” 
> 
> Prompt 2: “Stardust”
> 
> Me rambling about stardust as a theme in Rogue One. I’ve always loved this concept.

Some millennia ago, a star collapsed. 

* * *

When Galen sees his newborn daughter for the first time, he immediately notices her strikingly blue eyes. With flecks of _gold_. Like _stardust_. 

“Jyn,” he says, and Lyra smiles, “My Stardust.” 

* * *

A few years later, blood splatters the mineral-rich earth of Lah’mu. 

Does a mother really die? Or does she live on in her child?

Energy is not created nor destroyed. Only transformed.

Lyra becomes one with the Force.

Jyn runs, kyber crystal swinging from her necklace. Her father’s voice the only thing in her mind. “ _My Stardust. Everything I do, I do for you.”_

* * *

Jyn doesn’t hear her full name for a very, very long time. 

Until it tumbles out of the mouth of Cassian Andor. 

“Jyn Erso. Daughter of Galen Erso.” 

If someone who lost their hearing as a child suddenly regained it as an adult, only to hear the screams of the dying, would it feel like this?

Her heartbeat roars in her ears. She hears him. _Imperial. Planet-killer. Worlds turned to dust._

_“ _My Stardust. Everything I do, I do for you.”_   _

* * *

She’s sobbing on the floor. Jedha crumbles around her. Dust fills her lungs. She can’t move. Won’t move.

A flaw. In the planet-killer.

She was still his Stardust. 

Saw’s voice doesn’t move her. Cassian frantically storms in.

_“What have you done to her?!”_

Jyn’s mind is numb, but somewhere in her mind she has an answer. _Saw didn’t do this._ She’s suffocating and isn’t sure if it’s the dust or the whirlwind of emotions. _My father did this._

And then Cassian’s arms are around her. He pulls her, just short of carrying her out.

“Hurry up or we’ll be turned into stardust,” he says. The words spark somethng in her. Jyn follows.

* * *

It’s too much. too soon. Years of hiding her old life, her true name, in the recessess of her mind, for all it to come rushing like an avalanche in a matter of mere hours. 

 _She liked to think he was dead_. And now he was. She cradled his body in her arms, rain and tears and dust stinging her eyes. Not feeling. Not thinking. 

 _“My Stardust,”_ he had said. 

For their first meeting, Jyn imagined, she was in her father’s arms. And now for their last meeting, he was in hers. 

She’s numb again (or had she ever thawed?), deaf to the sound of the battle around her. Cassian shouts her name. He sounds pained. 

 _Why_? Wasn’t he sent here to kill? Shouldn’t he be happy? She would argue with him, later, but right now, she didn’t want to see him.

She buries her face in Galen’s chest, kyber necklace brushing her face. Cassian yells her name again.

 _My Stardust_ , she hears, _go. Save the Rebellion. Save the Dream._  

She lets Cassian pull her away, resolve forming in her heart. 

* * *

She had to get those plans. 

Jyn knows, deep down, that the others would come with her even if she didn’t ask. But Cassian was the wild card. Would he turn them in, the instant they ran off? 

She sees Cassian headed towards her, with a bunch of surly-looking rebels of all shapes and sizes. She stiffens.

But the Cassian explains himself, and Jyn begins to relax. Thaw, even. The rebels, under Cassian’s lead, were going to use her unauthorized suicide mission as a way to atone for the sins they had done in the name of the Rebellion. It smacks of irony. 

So much support in a time of dire need. She’s genuinely thankful for it.

“I’m not used to people sticking around when things go bad,” she says, and hopes Cassian understands what she means. 

They circle each other, like two stars spiraling ever closer, about to collide, pulled together by fatal attraction. 

He says, “Welcome home,” and she knows it to be true. 

* * *

Her heart is pounding in her chest. Jyn swears every Imperial in the Citadel can hear it. File names scroll endlessly. How many more planet-killers are hidden in these pixels? She doesn’t want to think about it. 

Kay is outside. She hears blasterfire. She’s never seen Cassian in this much anguish. He looks ready to rip apart the blaster doors and help Kay - if it wasn’t for the mission.

Names scroll by.

 _Stardust_.

Her breath catches and her hands fly to her kyber necklace. _Of course_. 

 _She was always his Stardust_. 

She doesn’t realize she’s said anything aloud until Cassian asks, “How do you know?” 

Jyn turns to look at him, sure and full of… _pride_. “I know because it’s me,” she says simply. She’s about to offer an explanation when Cassian nods, and the sparkling look in his eyes tells her he understands. 

“Let’s go. Make your father proud,” he says. Jyn gives him a weary smile. 

* * *

Cassian’s leaning on her, with more than a lifetime’s worth of weariness weighing him down. Jyn could probably get off the planet if she didn’t have to carry him. But the thought of leaving Cassian to die never crosses her mind. They had been through so much together, in such a short time. No being in the universe would be able to understand her as well as he had. 

Nobody has been this close to her in a very long time. But already Cassian felt as much of a part as her as the kyber necklace was. 

Maybe they had been crafted with the ashes of the same star.

The beach is peaceful. Beautiful, even. Far away from the battle. The skies are empty. The plans are gone. She hopes they’re in the right hands, then smiles to herself. _Rebellions are built on hope,_  after all. 

Cassian catches her smiling and takes her hand. Intertwines his fingers with hers. 

“Your father would be proud of you,” he says, and means it. 

Jyn pulls Cassian into a hug. Their breathing steadies. She can’t tell the difference between her heartbeat and his. He pulls her closer and the line dividing _him_  from _her_  begins to blur. Not much longer now.

Her world fills with light and any darkness in her mind is vanquished. She smiles and buries her face into Cassian’s neck.

 _My Stardust_ , she hears, and she can’t tell if it’s her father’s voice or Cassian’s. _Come to me. Come home._

They cross the line between life and death together, and are forever united in the Force.

They become stardust. 

* * *

Stars are born. Stars collapse. They collide. They reform. But they are always made of the same things. They always have the same heart. And thus, love never dies. It just has different forms. 


	2. his calm in her storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 3: “Serenity”
> 
> Something like the month of March… in like a lion, out like a lamb. (they live!AU)

Cassian had an interesting relationship with peace. 

It is what he spent his life fighting for. But did he truly know it?

When Cassian was born the galaxy was unsettled, something sinister perpetually bubbling under the surface. But until the age of four, he lived happily with his parents. He was too young to recognize their poverty, and found joy in seeing the world from his father’s shoulders, through his mother’s kind eyes.

That was peaceful.

But even then, he could sense the uneasiness in his parents’ hearts, tainting Cassian’s most joyful moments. When he saw the stars, he saw glitter spilling across Fest’s night sky. His father saw systems where conflict was brewing, and gripped Cassian a little tighter. 

So he had never known true peace.

Once the war had started, even peace was hard to find. Joy still made appearances, now and then. On his birthday. When dinner included a sweet treat for dessert. When Cassian found wildflowers for his mother. 

And then joy was taken from him.

Peace began to simply mean quiet. The nights in between missions. Days where he was skimming through reports on his datapad. A battlefield between bursts of blasterfire. Sitting in the cockpit, watching stars streak by in hyperspace. A rare dream of snow falling, dusting the rooftop of his childhood home. Stars, shining bright in the sky.

Cassian had never, ever, been at peace with himself. How could one find peace when he has betrayed and killed so many? How could he find it while living? 

Then Jyn had entered his life like a storm. The greatest upheaval of his life since the war had began. He had been on much more dangerous missions, met much more unpredictable people. But Jyn was different, and he wasn’t quite sure why. 

She had shown him serenity. 

It was ironic, really, that a woman who embodied a hurricane would be the one to bring him calm. Maybe he was the eye of her storm. 

For it was her rogue mission that brought him the salvation he needed. For he who has spent his lifetime chipping away at his humanity, self-sacrifice for the same cause was a boon.

And so on the beach, comforted by Jyn’s closeness, a brightening horizon, and a lightened heart, Cassian was truly, utterly serene.  

But the Force still had a plan for them, and he was thrown back into his tumultuous life, but this time with Jyn at his side. 

She didn’t bring him the serenity he felt on the beaches of Scarif. Not yet. Instead he experienced a full range of emotions, far more deeply than he ever had before. 

Absolute joy, as the plans had reached the fleet. _Their sacrifice was worth it_. Extreme worry, since the Princess hadn’t come back. An emotion impossible to describe, as he watched the first Death Star explode, knowing there was still work to be done.

And being with Jyn, being _alive_  with Jyn… it was like he was seeing new colours.

The first few days, he couldn’t bear to look at her, but couldn’t bear to be without her. His soul ached, heart fluttered, blood pounded in his veins; and the usually calm, cool, collected Cassian went out the window. 

Being near her was like standing in fire, those first few weeks. Nothing like the calm she brought him on Scarif. No, now he was a bird trapped in her storm. 

He didn’t know if he wanted to stay and burn or flee and freeze. 

It turned out, Cassian liked to burn. Maybe it was the fact he had been precariously close to doing so. 

Every time Jyn’s lips brushed against his it felt like Cassian’s soul was being set aflame. He couldn’t think, not when his hands were in her hair and her kyber necklace dangled precariously in his face. They were more closely intertwined than ever before - it made Scarif seem as if they were lightyears apart - and yet Cassian couldn’t find that same sense of peace.  

It confused him for a very long time. Was he not close enough? Was he not trying hard enough? He was afraid the wrong move would send them spiralling apart in opposite directions, never to meet again. It was like weaving stars into constellations, without knowing where the next line went. 

He found his answer in a closeness of a different kind. It wasn’t stars in the night, but more the sun in the morning - Jyn’s head on his chest, his arms wrapped around her, rising and falling with her breathing. Jyn’s leaning on his shoulder, napping after a long mission, nose brushed up against his neck. The small smile she gives him on the other side of the room during a briefing. The look she gives him when he carries the ever-smiling Poe on his shoulders. A shared laugh after they run into the Princess and Han bickering once again.  Even when she kicked him in the shins after an argument. 

When he closed his eyes then, he didn’t see the stars in Fest’s night sky. He saw the sun. 

After realizing this, Cassian Andor would always be able to find a moment of serenity in the storm. 

Then the Force decided to give him a gift. An eternal peace. Found in another pair of eyes, ones that hadn’t witnessed the terrors he and Jyn had - and he swore she would never see them, never again, even if it cost him the rest of his humanity - eyes that shone like the sun.

(Her name was Lyra Andor, and she was his Serenity). 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 4: One Bed.  
> me: I’m not going to write bedsharing fic, I’ve done it once and so far everyone else’s has been utterly beautiful so I don’t want to mess it up
> 
> also me:

Jyn learns a lot about Cassian, in their bed. 

She can list them off, one by one. 

His hands are perpetually freezing. They’re always intertwined with hers when they’re not pressed against her for warmth. He has the callused hands of a sniper, and she knows the lines of his palm by heart.

He hates the cold. Ironic, yes, but the way he amasses a mountain of blankets is endearing. Many a day Jyn has mistaken Cassian for a pile of blankets, only given away by his hair sticking up from under the hem.

He can fall asleep anywhere, and sleeps lightly. Just like her. But he prefers to lie on his back, allowing her to curl up and press her face to his chest. He sleeps deeply on nights like these.

He pulls her in closer while he’s sleeping. He has no recollection of doing so, but Jyn knows. She doesn’t mind. 

Some nights, he doesn’t sleep. Jyn falls asleep to the sensation of Cassian toying with her hair, and wakes up finding herself held tightly to his chest, his face buried in her neck, the distinct air of someone who had been kept awake clinging like dampness to her skin. But those nights become rare. If they stay up, they stay up together. 

She learns a lot about herself, too.

She likes to burrow into things, for warmth, she assumes. Snug against his side, face against his chest, taking up his pillow space.

She takes up a lot of space. She’s used to sleeping in cramped quarters, but once she tasted the luxury of sprawling across a bed, she never willingly went back. Cassian often woke up to find a leg sprawled across him or a hand in his face. 

She hates it when she wakes up to find Cassian had rolled away from her. But that doesn’t happen very often.

She’s memorized the intricacies of his body, knows where every unhealed blaster wound has left its mark, where a lifetime of servitude to a greater cause has broken him. He knows hers. 

The sound of his breathing lulls her to sleep. When her mind is wandering, mulling over the day’s events, or reliving long-dead terrors, the rhythm of his heartbeat against hers quiets her mind. 

And so, she falls asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 5: Warmth
> 
> A prompt that conveniently lines up with my Cassian headcanons. Canon-compliant.

They say no matter where you go, you carry your homeworld - or moon - with you. Its soul is imbibed in yours. No matter how far you were, a force - _the_ Force - pulls you to it. It calls you.

* * *

The wind carries howling voices along with the snow.

_A cold heart. Covered in impenetrable ice. Frigid. Unforgiving. Deadly._

It’s what they say about Fest.

It’s what they say about Cassian.

* * *

Cassian rarely ever touches people. When he does, he is always surprised at the way they jump at his icy grip. Bitterly cold hands on warm skin. He can see the same shock in Tivik’s eyes, followed by hurt. Betrayal.

It only makes sense for a killer to have deathly cold hands.

* * *

He’s convinced he has the touch of death. Instant fatality. Like the nights of his childhood. Bundling up in coats did nothing, just kept the warmth in a little longer. Prolonged the suffering.

* * *

She burns bright.  Like a star. He doesn’t need to be Force-sensitive to see that. She’s magnetic, pulls all sorts of trouble around her like a whirlwind. She slams into two unfriendly looking beings, and he pulls her away.

A soothing apology rolls off his tongue, flawlessly executed by habit and not by conscious thought - for he’s too surprised that she _didn’t_ jump at his touch to think about anything else.

* * *

His cursed touch had claimed another life. He knew it. What else had snuffed out her flame? Her face is paler than snow, body colder than ice. Frozen in place.

It’s ironic, that he touches her again to save her. Jedha was crumbling, and for once he pulls a being away from demise.

Cassian Andor, saving a life. Had hell frozen over?

Had Fest’s cold heart thawed?

* * *

When was the last time someone had touched him out of love? He couldn’t remember. He had no friends to pat him on the back, no lover to embrace, no parents to lean on. Kay was made of metal and wires, not flesh and nerve, and didn’t understand the need for human touch.

Cassian had forgotten the need until Jyn grabs his arm. Her flame is brighter than ever before, eyes sparkling with joy - Bodhi’s code had worked, they were in.  

She fills him with a warmth he didn’t think he deserved.

The moment is over far too soon. Now the warmth is all he desires.

* * *

He gets more than he had ever imagined.

His touch is still a touch of death. He takes her hand anyways.

She hugs him back and every crevice of his body is filled with warmth, so much so he forgets what a lifetime of cold felt like. Not that he wanted to remember.

* * *

They say no matter where you go, your death occurs according to the planet you die on. Your homeworld’s soul is imbibed in yours, but your deathworld’s spirit is what sets yours free. It is on the deathworld where you answer the Force’s call.

Scarif is warm, beautiful, forgiving.

Cassian feels warm, beautiful, forgiven. And he is.


	5. what choice?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 6: “Temptation” 
> 
>  
> 
> Jyn never had any options, until she did. Now she doesn’t know what to do with them.

The word choice feels foreign in her mouth. What choices had life given her? Not many. Not _any_ , on second thought. 

She always did whatever guaranteed her survival. Even as a wide-eyed, innocent child, she chose to run for _her_  life. She hadn’t been _given_  any options after that. Do this or die, learn this or die, become this or die. She only had one option and it was survival. Each and every time.

(Running off to Scarif was the first choice she’d been given in a long time. But even then, her path was clear. Die hoping or die of guilt, if the Empire didn’t kill her before then. It turned out life had a different idea.)

With that, options started blooming in every corner. Sometimes they were easy. (Would she stay with the Rebellion? The answer was a resounding “Yes ma’am.”) Other times, she didn’t know what to do with herself. (Rebels who had known better lives lamented the lack of variety of food. She had never seen so many options in her entire life. That first day in line left her gawking in wonder as other rebels pushed and shoved past her.)

In the end, her choices were always clear, a sense of what was right (or a rumbling stomach) pushing her to her decision.

That is, until Cassian came along.

* * *

She hadn’t _realized_  the choice Cassian carried with him in their shared smiles, and in their shared arguments. She didn’t realize it until after a particularly rough mission - _all the lives she could’ve saved_ , she manages to choke out - Cassian failing to soothe her with his words and pulling her into a hug instead.

Instead of calming her, he flipped her world upside down. Her head on his shoulder, his arms around her, it was Scarif all over again but death wasn’t looming directly above their heads.

 _Oh,_  she thought, fingers curling into Cassian’s jacket, his breath warm on her neck, his existence so close to hers. _Oh_. 

This wasn’t a choice. It was a temptation. 

* * *

Choosing became harder after that. She meets his eyes, he smiles at her, she smiles back and she tries not to let her eyes drop lower. He hands her a blaster, their fingers brush, and she tries not to catch his hand in hers. They’re slipping out of Imperial uniforms, and she won’t turn around, she really won’t, but the rustle of fabric shouldn’t cause her heart to pound like this. They’re pressed against each other in a narrow alleyway and the sensation of him against her shouldn’t be setting off fireworks… but it did.

She thought temptation was a glittery trinket to waste credits on, an extra weight you didn’t need to carry. And it was, but Cassian wasn’t a trinket she didn’t need, wasn’t a weight on her shoulders she didn’t want. He was the opposite. 

That was the problem. 

* * *

She didn’t realize he was faced with the same options. She didn’t notice that when her gaze dropped, so did his. She didn’t notice his grip lingering longer than it needed to, didn’t hear his heartbeat roaring in his chest, didn’t feel his pulse racing where he was pressed against her. 

* * *

She’s curled up in the co-pilot’s seat, feet up on the console, and Cassian plunks down in the seat next to her, rubbing the back of his neck as he studies the ship’s displays. The lights of hyperspace illuminate his face, accentuating his features. 

They’re both tired in a satisfied way, leaving a rough but fulfilling mission behind them. Cassian’s shirt is disheveled, he somehow tore the collar open, and Jyn notices with a smile that he still has a smudge of grease on his face. 

Jyn realizes he’s looking at her too, and she’s suddenly aware of a fluttery warm feeling in her stomach.

 _This_  is home. Not a place, but a person. A feeling. And she wanted it. _Needed_  it, even. 

The realization dawns on her. A weight lifts off her chest, and she grins at him, eyes sparkling. 

“Jyn?” Cassian asks, almost a whisper, eyebrows arched in curiosity, voice thick with anticipation. It’s the question she’d been waiting for. 

“Cassian,” she replies, softly but firmly, decision made. She leans forward, _finally_ giving in, and Cassian meets her halfway. 

She chose him, and she’ll choose him again and again. 


	6. trust in the force.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 7 - “Luck”
> 
> More canon-compliant sadness!! (a different take on what they were talking about on the way down to the beach, inspired by the prompt.)

“That fall… that could’ve killed you. You were lucky it didn’t,” Jyn manages to say.

Cassian gives her a grim look. “Well, I think we’re all lucky it didn’t.” He pauses, gathering the energy to continue. “I don’t think any of it had to do with me. It was all you.”

Jyn half-snorts. “My _luck_?” 

Cassian shakes his head head slowly, remembering something Chirrut had said. “ _I don’t need luck. I have you._ ” 

Jyn’s mouth twitches into a smile, and he pulls her closer - she’s not sure if he needs the support, or if he’s trying to hug her. “Well if we’re going to be quoting Chirrut,” she begins, but saying his name stirs up too many emotions and she has to pause to let them settle down. Cassian watches her closely, even as he’s limping in pain towards the elevator, as if he was drinking her in, hanging on to her every last word. 

She starts over. “It wasn’t me, or you, or our luck. Maybe it was the Force,” she says simply.  

Cassian’s leaning on her heavily now, as they stagger into the elevator. It hums as it comes to life, and she can feel the tug of gravity as they descend. 

“I thought the Force and I had different priorities,” Cassian says. “But maybe it had the right ones.” 

Jyn looks at him curiously, studying his face, trying to burn it into her memory. The way he looks at her when he elaborates: “I mean, my priority was - is - the Rebellion. Always. I didn’t think… I didn’t think I could have this. You,” he finally says. “But here I am.”

With that, the elevator doors glide open, and they’re hit by brilliant light.

“But with my kriffing luck,” Cassian continues, and Jyn can tell he’s struggling to form the words, “This is only going to last for only a few minutes.” 

Jyn tugs him closer, pulls him towards the beach. “A few minutes is more than I thought I ever deserved.”

He nods in agreement. “I guess we’re lucky to have them, then.” 


	7. a little rivalry never hurt anyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 9: competition
> 
> everyone lives au only because I couldn’t think of any non-human species other than wookies. a particular wookie, in fact.

Jyn’s hunched over the table in concentration. 

The light of the holograms flickers over her face as she suddenly sits up, idea in mind. 

“Ha,” she exclaims as one of the pieces moves across the board and tosses the opposing creature off the table. Artoo chirps happily, dome spinning and declaring Jyn the winner. 

Cassian groans and puts his head in his hands, pushing his hair out of his face. “Best 3 out of 5?” Artoo beeps something that resembles a laugh.

Jyn smirks. “I’m going to win the next one, you know. Just accept defeat, _Major_.” She nudges him under the table with her foot.

“Who knew you were this good at dejarik?” Cassian picks up his now-cold caf from the table. 

“It was the only fun thing I had with the Partisans,” Jyn explains nonchalantly. “You get good when you have nothing better to do. Though playing with holos is new.” She looks to Artoo. “Do you want to play me, Artoo?”

Artoo whirls around, chirping an affirmative in binary. Cassian grins. “He’s an astromech droid, Jyn. He’s got a _computer_  for a _brain._ ” 

“Well, there’s no harm in trying, right?” Jyn lightly taps the droid’s dome. “And we have time to kill.” 

Artoo beeps contentedly. He’d rather play Jyn than Chewie. She wouldn’t rip him to pieces.

As if on cue, Chewie lumbers in the doorway, growling a question.

“You want to play?” Jyn asks. Chewie nods excitedly. Han and Leia were… _busy_  in the engine room. He needed a distraction. “Well, Cass, it looks like you need to get up and make room for the Wookie.” Cassian grins and moves from his seat, choosing to stand directly behind Jyn to watch.

Artoo beeps in terror. “What’s that?” Jyn moves closer to Artoo and he lets out a long string of rapid beeps. “Oh. I see. Don’t worry.”

* * *

Jyn’s hunched over the table once again, but this time Cassian is leaning over her, eyes narrowing in focus, another cup of caf cooling in his hand.

“Kriffing stars, Cass, I can’t concentrate with you breathing down my neck like that,” Jyn hisses, trying to cover the red flush spreading across her face.

“Sorry.” Cassian’s voice is strained with anticipation as he leans away. “This is intense.”

Chewie lets out a low grumble, watching Jyn intently. Artoo boops worriedly, leaning forward on his rockets. 

Jyn bites her lip, and her creature winds its way across the desk. A misstep. Cassian groans and Chewie chortles as his creature flips hers into the table. 

Artoo beeps in relief. _Chewie wins!_  The Wookie raises both his arms and roars in victory.

“Nice game, big guy,” Jyn smiles. 

 _You play well, little sister_ , Chewie rumbles in approval. _Not as good as a Wookie, though._

* * *

“You lost on purpose,” Cassian corners her, when Chewie’s out of earshot.

“Not _really_.”

“Artoo _told_  you to lose.”

“Yeah. But I’m not scared of Chewie. He’s just a oversized teddy bear. I lost because it’s fun to see him win.” 

“So you can lose to him out of love, but not me?” Cassian pouts, leaning close. Jyn blushes a little before lightly punching him in the stomach. “Ow!” He pulls away, leaning against the wall. 

“A little competition is always healthy,” Jyn replies. 


	8. let your troubles lay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 10: Music
> 
> I had this in mind while writing forget your woes (from rebelcaptain week, but it isn't necessary to read), so this is a spiritual sequel.

The bonfire roars high, high into the night sky. Flames lick the edges of the logs, sending embers spraying into the air. They rival the stars glittering above. It would have been an awe-inducing sight, if they had not just witnessed the fire explosion of the Death Star mere hours earlier. Still, Cassian found himself entranced by the fire, lost in memories stirred by the warmth of the flickering flames. 

He hadn’t seen a celebratory fire like this since he was a child. He’s no longer on the forested moon of Endor, no, he finds himself wrapped in blankets, the bitterly cold wind howling outside. The revelry morphs into murmurs of a crowd - _family_ , he thinks - and his heart pulses with anticipation. A festival, perhaps. 

There’s a twinge of guilt in his stomach when he realizes he no longer remembers what they might’ve celebrated on Fest. 

He’s pulled out of his reverie when he feels an arm around his waist. Cassian’s eyes drop and meet Jyn’s. 

“Hey,” he offers. Jyn gives him a small, weary but warm smile. He’s glad he doesn’t need to fake exuberance - he was truly, utterly happy the Emperor and Vader were dead, of course, but whatever’s gnawing at his insides threatens to spill over as tears. He wants to cry, not cheer. 

He’s not quite sure why. 

He wraps his arm around Jyn, pulling her close as she rests her head on his shoulder. They’re silent for a while, the fire warming their faces. 

“It’s weird,” Jyn begins. “We thought we’d never live to see this day - we worked towards it, but I… I didn’t give myself the chance to even consider…. but now we’re here. And instead of celebrating, we-I…” Jyn’s shoulders sag a little, as if she’s reminded of the weight of her father’s legacy.

Cassian always found it easier to console Jyn rather than himself. 

“It’s okay not to be excited,” he says slowly, trying to put his thoughts into words. “We have all the time in the world to get there.” Jyn nods, slowly, back straightening. 

With that, Cassian remembers this: whenever he consoles Jyn, he ends up consoling himself. 

They fall silent again, but this time Cassian isn’t pulled into the depths of his past. He’s acutely aware of his surroundings: the chatter of the pilots - he recognizes Bodhi’s hand-waving right away - the whoops of the ground troops, and the steady drumbeat of the Ewoks. 

One, two, one, two. It mixes with the hum of the crowd, perfectly synced with his heartbeat. He doesn’t realize he’s swaying with the rhythm until Jyn looks up at him, a grin spreading across her face. “Are you a dancer, Cass?” 

He chuckles, a half-cough really, but the smile is genuine. “Do undercover fancy-dress parties count?”

“No,” Jyn wrinkles her nose. 

He’s studying her face, the unsteady light of the fire dancing over her features. “I have vague memories. From my childhood,” he says, voice softening at the end. Jyn’s face is solemn, eyes fixed on his. 

“I have some too. Coruscanti classics,” she grins when Cassian rolls his eyes. “I think I stepped on my father’s feet more than the actual floor.” She says _my father_  in a way he’s never heard it before - no regret, no sadness: it brings a smile to her lips instead. “My mother was the best. Graceful, if I can remember.” 

Cassian nods. “I remember… I remember flames like these. A celebration, of some kind. Loud, lively drumbeats-”

“Like now?”

“With less Ewoks. And I don’t think they were using _those_ ,” he nods to the drummer who had repurposed stormtrooper helmets for percussion instruments. Jyn laughs. “But yes. Kind of like this.”

“Can you show me how? I couldn’t dance in the formal style if I could, but whatever you said sounds fun.” 

Cassian looks at her again, looks at the sparkle in her eyes, and wonders if she’s trying to help _him_. Try and turn old memories into happier, new ones. He wouldn’t put it past her. 

“Okay,” he says. He pulls her into the dance, loses himself in the beat, finds himself with her.


	9. filling in the blank spaces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 11: confined 
> 
> angst? angst. (the Empire finds her and she loses herself. again.)

She lurches, gasping for air, her breath wrangled from her lips, a slab of metal cold and hard below her. 

_No, no, no, not this, no_. 

She feels shadows looming over her, relieving her from the harsh light coming from above. Angry voices, muffled, as if underwater. She feels small, young, _tired_  and the damp walls are closing in, closing in, closing in. 

_Who are you? who are you?_ The voices echo in hear head once more before she blacks out. 

Who is she? 

* * *

She jolts awake, straining against the bonds, back arching away from the cold, cold durasteel. Her hair is in her eyes. She tries swiping it away but her hand is pulled back by the cuffs. 

She tries to steady her breathing. _Where is she_? She looks up and around, as far as the braces will let her. 

Solitary confinement. 

Her breaths are short and ragged, lips cracked and bleeding but pressed firmly together, keeping the screams at bay. 

* * *

Her head lolls to the side, the last interrogation leaving her panting, sweat dripping down the side of her face. _How much longer? Would he find her? Ever?_

_He_. The word forms a crease between her eyebrows, a single ray of hope trying to burst through the darkness. _Who is he?_

She tries, and she tries, and she tries. 

* * *

She wakes up with a start, a name on the tip of her tongue, but disappearing before she can form the first syllable. 

She feels young and small again, but this time the walls aren’t closing in. No, she feels cozy and warm and loved. Synthfur prickles her skin. She shudders, not out of cold or disgust but because of the _warmth_  rippling through her body. 

The feeling dissipates into the chill air, gone far too soon, but this time, when she slips under, there’s a ghost of a smile on her face. 

* * *

“Jyn?”  


That didn’t sound right. Usually the voices didn’t know her name. They were jarringly rough, cutting deep into her skin.

“ _Jyn!”_

It was a dream, then. 

Even with that realization, everything still felt off. Whenever _he_ said her name - and that voice, Jyn knew, was unmistakably _his_ \- it was sure and steady. Usually firm, ringing clear like blasterfire hitting metal - but sometimes it was gentle like a childhood long forgotten, soothing like wind coming off the ocean. In dreams it was soft, a whisper against skin, a hand lightly grazing another. But here it was broken. Cracking with something greater than worry. Teetering on an edge. Despair? Like a child looking in a sea of unknown faces. Lost. 

Lost like her train of thought.

“Jyn? Can you hear me? Are-” a noise. A sob? “Are you there? Stay with me. _Stay with me_.” The last words sound like an order.  


Order. Command. Soldier. _Captain_. Captain…

“Cassian?” she gasps, eyes flying wide open. She blinks rapidly, the blurry haze of her world coming into focus. Not the dilapidated walls of her cell, but a pair of concerned brown eyes. 

A deep and heavy sigh of relief, a hand moving away from the side of her face, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. 

“You’re safe.”


	10. i’d give myself to find you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 13: desperation   
> cassian POV of the previous chapter.

The file lands on his desk. Literally, as a small stack of actual flimsi lands before him with a thud.

“Your next mission,” Draven says, “is a rescue.”

Cassian looks up at him. Flimsi meant high security.

“Someone you know well.”  He inhales sharply. _Surely he didn’t mean_ – but of course. It shimmers in his eyes. 

“I thought you said-” _something about irrational behaviour,_ Weeks of poor performance swirl in his memory: of damp sheets and gasps for air. Metal digging into his wrists, copper in his mouth. 

“I know,” Draven replies, nothing in his expression. 

“I don’t think you’re fit for a mission. But…” Cassian swallows, hard. “If anyone can find her, it’s you.” Draven sniffs. “Though you should thank the princess later.” 

He steadies himself. “Thank you, sir.”

Draven gives him a small nod. “Everything you need to know is in the file.” He turns to walk away, but then adds: “Bring her back to us.”

“I will.” 

* * *

Finally, finally, the cell door groans open. Cassian bursts through the doorway, haggard with weeks of exhaustion. 

She’s deathly pale, as still as a statue. His heart leaps up into his throat. _No! **No.** _ He kneels by her side, fear slithering up his spine, curling around his neck, squeezing the breath out of his lungs. 

“Jyn?”  


His voice cracks. Her eyes are shut to the universe, the only hint of her life essence in the almost undetectable rise and fall of her chest. It’s not as big of a relief as he thought it would be. He snaps open her shackles, hands trembling. 

“ _Jyn!”_

He wants to shake her awake, but he’s afraid that will hurt more than help. He wants to scream but can no longer find the energy to do so. _What have they **done**  to you? _His hands curl into fists, shaking, as if punching through the cold, damp walls of the cell would bring her back. 

“Jyn?” It’s unbearably silent. The rest of the team hovers outside of the door, not daring to make a sound. Cassian can hear his heart thundering in his chest. It’s too, too, quiet.   


He runs his hand through his hair, attempting to brush the unsettling dread filling his body. _What did they do to you?_ He glances at the pair of feet at the doorway. 

“Jyn? Can you hear me? Are-” He gasps - chokes on a sob. Tears threaten to spill over as he leans towards her.  “Are you there?” _Please, please be there. Please hold on._  Desperation twists his voice into something unrecognizable. Feral, and broken.  

_Come back to me, **please**. I’ll do anything. **Anything**._

really? the Universe echoes back to him, promises bouncing off the walls of the cell. what will you give me in return?

“Stay with me,” he pleads, cupping her face in his hands, unsure if he’s asking her or the universe. _Give her back to me_. _Please._

if you want her back, the Universe teases, what will you give? 

He’s tired, so tired. He just wants to go home, wherever home is. His eyes flicker to Jyn’s face, the universe denying him the green he so desperately wanted to see. He’d been through hell and back for this. The blood on his hands, the scars of his teammates, the blaster hanging empty at his side; all were the testament to how hard they had fought. So why wasn’t she waking up?

Fury rises in the hollow left by despair. He wouldn’t let the Empire take one more person away from him. _Not this time._

“ _Stay with me_.” His voice is firm now, his chin raised, defiant. Like he’s looking Death in the face. _Don’t you **dare**_ **.**  

A chill runs down his spine, icy cold breath on his neck. He freezes, his shaky breaths the only sound.

you have given me plenty, Death whispers in his ear. for a change, I will give to you.

As suddenly as it came, the chill is gone.

“Cassian?” she gasps, eyes flying wide open. She blinks rapidly, eyes focusing on Cassian’s face.

He holds his breath.

Her eyebrows are narrowed in confusion, but recognition sparkles in her eyes. 

He sighs, falling back on his knees. Relief and exhaustion wash over him. A whisper of thanks as he brushes a strand of hair from her forehead.

“You’re safe,” he says. “Let’s go home.” 


	11. blood on freshly fallen snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 14: shock  
> Inspired by: doing things out of spite (I didn’t see any jyn-comforts-cass fics), a wonderful piece of artwork by @sempaiko (see my tumblr), and my innate need to info-dump my version of cassian’s tragic backstory™.

His world fades from screaming colour, to black and white, and then nothing. Absolute, chilling darkness. 

_Cassian? Cassian!_

Cold, cold, cold. It seeps in like fog over water. He’s chilled beyond the bone, all the way to his very soul.

_The results of my scans indicate that you should administer treatment for shock. I do not detect any signs of hypothermia. You do know how to treat for shock, Jyn?_

A cold-hearted killer only ever feels the chill of death. He doesn’t deserve the warmth of life. This is the only truth. He remembers, now. How had he forgotten? 

_Of course I do, it’s just - Cassian? Cassian! What happened? Cassian, can you hear me? Breathe with me. In, out. In, out. _Fark, what happened to him, Kay?__

Blood burning starkly against chillingly white snow.

_If I knew would I be continuing this conversation, Erso? This is why he should’ve brought me instead of you. If I had been on the mission, I could ha-_

The blood of innocents. Blood he spilled.

_Kay! We don’t have time for this! Get me a blanket._

It’s happening all over again.

_Done. I shall watch over him._

He never left Fest. Fest never let him go. Its icy grip digs into his heart. 

_That’s alright, Kay. I can keep an eye on him._

Time stopped almost two decades ago. Everything else is an illusion. This is the only truth. He’s frozen in place. This is his existence. Forever.

_Are you sure? You are incapable of monitoring his vitals, and his-_

The pill burns in the hidden pocket on his shoulder. His blaster feels cool against his clammy skin. His fingers twitch with want. 

_Someone needs to get us home. It’s a long flight._

The chill of death, the warmth of life. Around him, a battle. Within him, a battle. 

_Fine._

The voices of the dead howl in the wind. 

_Thank you, Kay. I’ll take care of him._

* * *

“Cassian,” his mother calls. “Cassian!” She shouts his name, growing ever distant, voice fading into nothingness. 

“Cassian,” Jyn calls. “ _Cassian_!” She is forceful and gentle. Near and so, so far away. “Can you hear me?” 

_“Cassian.”_

Hollow, empty. 

* * *

Eventually he can distinguish a pair of green eyes, wide with worry, in the haze.

“ _Watch me,”_  she pleads. “Time your breathing in with mine. In through the nose - slowly, and out through the mouth. In, out. In, out. You’re alright now, we’re safe. We’re going home. Cassian, can you hear me?”

He can. And he can feel her arm around him, holding him upright. He nods shakily. 

“What happened?” 

He takes in a deep breath. Averts his eyes. Squeezes her free hand in his, a small gift of warmth in the unforgiving cold of hyperspace. 

“You know my story. It’s time you told me yours.” 

His eyes flicker back to her face. Her lips are pressed firmly together, determined for an answer. But her gaze is soft and pleading. “Tell me,” she whispers. 

And he does. 

* * *

Hoth is a ball of ice. So is Fest. But Hoth is uninhabitable. Fest was home. So Cassian shoved aside long-buried memories of snow and ice, and instead focused on running a Rebellion. 

But landing on Mygeeto, an _inhabited_  snowy planet, proved too much to bear. Especially when the Rebels were trying to wrangle it away from the grasp of the Empire. It felt too much like home. War and suffering, winter and desperation. 

He takes one look at the newly orphaned children, at the woman who collapses to her knees before him. 

“Take my son with you,” she begs, the warmth of life oozing out between her fingers. “Please.” She shoves the boy towards him with bloodstained fingers and collapses. A second ago, alive. A second later, a cold, dead body. 

Red blood on white snow. A mother’s cry for help.

It is too much for him to bear. 

* * *

Jyn stares at him, speechless. He looks at her, feeling numb. 

“I don’t know if it was the Republic or the Empire that killed my mother,” he says. “I don’t remember if she walked willingly onto that battlefield, or was dragged there kicking and screaming. And I don’t care. It just needs to stop. We need to stop it. Forever.” 

“We will,” Jyn says. “I have hope. _You_  gave me that hope.” There’s a flicker of something in her eyes, and not knowing what to say next, she hugs him. 

* * *

He doesn’t remember the boy being yanked away from his grasp.

He doesn’t remember their victory. 

He trudges in the snow, shell-shocked. He stumbles in waist-deep snow drifts, numb to the howling winds.

It’s Jyn who finds him. He doesn’t remember her confusion - _where’s your jacket, Cassian? Cass? Can you hear me - oh fark, you’re shivering._

He doesn’t remember her dragging him back to the ship. He doesn’t recall her voice shouting for Kay.

All he remembers is the blood spilling on the snow. 

* * *

He’s curled up around her, empty gazed fixed on the wall opposite his bunk. Lights flicker, red and green and yellow. The vital signs of the ship. 

“Go to sleep, Cass,” Jyn says, almost coos. “It’s a long journey back.” She rests her chin on the top of his head. 

“I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can.” She runs a hand through his hair. He tenses at her touch, then slowly, slowly, forces himself to relax. Focuses on matching his breathing to the sound of her heartbeat. 

“I…” he swallows, hard, words catching in his throat. “The mission, seeing a snowy battlefield again… after all these years… I relapsed. I forgot about the medication. Kay wasn’t around to remind me, and you didn’t know… so I forgot. And this happened.”

Jyn’s grip on him tightens, fingers flitting over the patch on his shoulder. His lifeline. “Kay administered it when we got back on board. You’re alright now, okay?” She rubs his back and he stifles a sigh. Her lips twitch into a smile.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.” 

Jyn sighs. “At least you told me now. Neither of us are the greatest at sharing our feelings or our history.”

Cassian sniffs. “Yeah, but we’re trying now, right?”

“Right. And that’s what matters, like you said.” Jyn recalls seeing Coruscant for the first time with Cassian at her side, how she had violently reeled away from suppressed memories, how she had almost taken Cassian and the mission down with her. “Close your eyes, Cass. Even if you don’t sleep. Just get some rest.” 

They don’t say anything after that. Cassian does drift off, eventually, the feeling of Jyn stroking his hair lulling him to sleep. Jyn marvels at how young he looks, worry lines slowly easing their grip as he slipped away. 

Jyn soon follows. 


	12. unblemished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 15: joy
> 
> The one thing these two really, really deserved to have. and to think I usually hate this kind of fic because it’s too cheesy. rebelcap deserves all the cheese.

“O-oh,” Cassian murmurs gently, “everything’s alright.” 

Jyn can’t help but grin. Her cheeks have been sore from so much _smiling_  - genuine smiling, not the polite uplift of her lips during meetings or _force forbid_ the fake grins she gave beneficiaries of the New Republic - over the past few days. 

Kira smiles back. 

The _(former)_  war orphran looks up at Jyn through a mess of dark bangs and thick, thick eyelashes; tiny - impossibly tiny - hands curled into fists as she peered at her over Cassian’s shoulder. 

She wants to say so, so many things but Jyn doesn’t make a sound, for fear that her voice would shatter the precious moment.

 _Precious._ Life was precious, Jyn knew that. It was what she had fought for alongside Cassian for so many years. 

Peace was precious. She knew that too, but only now, for the first time in her life - for even her adventures with Stormy on the black dunes of Lah’mu lacked true peace - was she witnessing it. In Cassian’s face, to be specific. 

His expression had been criss-crossed with worry when he had met Kira for the first time: a primal fear that the child would recoil from the battle-worn soldier. 

Instead, she toddled into his lap. 

And it had been love at first sight.

“She likes you more than me,” Jyn had hummed into his ear the following night. “She really loves you.” 

Cassian was at a loss for words. It had taken him a few minutes to muster: “I didn’t think…”

“But she did.” 

“She likes you too.” 

“In a different way.”

“That’s a good thing. Getting the same type of love is kind of boring, don’t you think? Kira deserves more than that.”

Jyn grinned then, the dim glow behind the curtain highlighting her smile. “You do, too.”

“ _We_ do.” 

It was Jyn’s turn to struggle with a reply when Kira’s cry pierced the silence of the night.

And now here they both were, Cassian cradling the child on his shoulders, Jyn keeping watch beside him.

 _Peace._  It was writen all over both Cassian’s and Kira’s faces. _Content._   _Bliss._  The words run through Jyn’s mind, as if she was pairing each word to a definition. The fluttering of Cassian’s eyelids, expression drifting from awe (and it was true, they were in awe of Kira’s unblemished existence) to content, as if the child was soothing him instead. The steadying of his breathing. His grip tightening on Kira’s back, yes his posture relaxing everywhere else as he rocks her back and forth. The gurgliness of Kira’s smile. 

Jyn is soon awash with something that  overwhelms her body and soul. Happiness? She was, indeed, happy, but this was a different kind - it stood apart the ecstatic cheers on Endor, Bodhi swinging her around a bonfire; the way her heart burst when Cassian grinned at her over the Ewok’s brew; the cautious optimism that fluttered in her heat when Leia informed them of an orphranage on Chandrila -

her eyes flicker to Kira, who has now dozed off. Cassian gets up, turns to look at Jyn, and smiles. 

This was _joy._


	13. going, going, goner.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for @rebelcaptainprompts prompt 16: soaked 
> 
> one day I’ll write something that isn’t angst. (but I wrote a hug to make up for it)

 

Jyn wakes up with a start, her clothes sticking to her skin and pillow soaked with tears. Another nightmare. She sits up, grasping at thin air, breathing heavily, and wipes her face with the back of her hand.

She pulls her blankets closer, as if the scant warmth they offered would be able to chase away the overwhelming sense of loneliness settling in her chest. She sits for a while with her arms wrapped around her knees, the hum of the ship coursing through hyperspace thrumming at the back of her brain. 

Abandonment was something Jyn knew intimately. They had first become acquaintances on that fateful day on Lah’mu, and had been inseparable since. She lied to herself as she grew up, believed that she didn’t need anyone else in her life, that all she needed was herself. (the second part was true: Jyn was perfectly capable of handling life all by herself - just that, she didn’t _want_  to.) 

Then the Rebellion had waltzed right back into her life - quite literally throwing her upside down - and she suddenly realized the truth. 

And then there was Cassian. Hopeful, trusting, honest, Cassian. 

She had only barely come to terms with his place in her life, and suddenly the nightmares had thrown her for a loop.

 

> He leaves her on Jedha. She dies.
> 
> He leaves her on Eadu. She dies.
> 
> He doesn’t come back on Scarif. She dies.

Waking up brings relief, her lungs free of dust. She’s alive. He came back.

But tonight: he leaves her behind on a mission. She’s alone. Abandoned.

(He didn’t actually leave her behind. Cassian is mere steps away, down the corridor, asleep in his own bunk. Jyn knows this, and yet the nightmare-induced feeling of betrayal gnaws away at her.) 

She kicks away the blankets and swings her legs off the bunk, shoving aside the part of her brain that wondered whether her fear was just abandonment or being unwanted by _him_ , and she makes her way to the small common room and sinks into a chair. 

“You alright?”

Startled, Jyn turns to see Cassian, bleary eyed and hair sticking up in a thousand different directions, staring back. 

“Oh, Jyn,” he murmurs, and moves away from his doorway towards her. 

Biting her lip, she grapples with his apparent influence over her emotions, intentional or not. She finds herself standing in front of him now, and is acutely aware of the dampness on her cheeks. 

It was either the concern on Cassian’s face, or the fact he stepped closer, but suddenly everything _breaks_  and Jyn collides right into him. Cassian doesn’t say a word, doesn’t mention the redness of her eyes, and a part of Jyn’s mind wonders why _Cassian_  is up so late. Whether it was concern that brought them together - or a shared experience. 

He offers more warmth than the ratty blankets piled on her bunk and she sighs, the emptiness slowly fading away. So did the indignant voice in her head, the only barrier between her thoughts and the outside world.

It shatters, and so does she.

“Promise you’ll never leave me.” Jyn tugs Cassian closer, fists curled firmly into his shirt. He doesn’t reply, only moves his arms up her back and hugs her tightly.

 _But of course,_  Jyn realizes. That’s a promise he can’t make. 

She pulls away from him and stares. He watches her closely, the very real possibly of being abandoned on a mission still ringing in her mind. 

But that was a risk _she_  had signed up for by staying with the Rebellion, hadn’t  she? Any loss was her own fault. The demons in the dark would have to understand that. _They will._

Jyn leans back into him, finally at peace, and she buries her face back in his chest. She finds solace in the silence.

But then Cassian surprises her.

“I... I can’t promise I won’t leave you,” he whispers into her hair. “But I _can_ promise you, I will always, _always_ , come back.” 


	14. entanglements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 17: tangled
> 
> "He carefully tugs his hand free and stares blankly at the back of Jyn’s head, wondering how in the name of the force was he going to put her hair back up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one of those prompts where I try and use the word as much as possible :p

“Your hair’s all tangled,” Cassian muses. 

Jyn half snorts, then winces. “That’s the _least_  of our problems right now.” Cassian gazes at her in response, the worry in his eyes buried under layers of shining humour and a mask of practiced calm. 

“It’s the only one I can solve right now,” he murmurs with a rueful smile, carefully shifting towards her. Rain pounds the roof of their sorry excuse of a hideout, turning the thin metal into a makeshift percussion instrument. Water drips in between the cracks, tracing a winding path down her face. Jyn tries not to think about her dreary cell on Wobani and cold duracrete pressed against her back. The gloominess of the tiny room seeps into her bones, bringing a sense of chilly loneliness in with it.

Then Cassian shifts beside her, unzipping his jacket carefully as to not jostle her, and she remembers she’s _not_  alone. “Go ahead, then,” she mumbles, eyes fluttering shut as her hands drift protectively over her injured abdomen.

She can feel Cassian stiffen beside her in surprise. “Okay,” he whispers. She stills as he tentatively leans in towards her, the only motion being the rather painful rise and fall of her own breathing.

He’s suddenly aware of how close they are, of how he can see every detail of her face in perfect clarity. The dirt smudge on her check. The deep red of blood dusting her lips like makeup. Suddenly he’s thankful that her eyes are shut. He wonders how long he could last with those eyes staring right through him. 

“I, uhm, think it would be easier if you turned around,” he says, casual tone strained by nerves. “But you don’t have to,” he adds, realizing how futile and _pointless_  this whole thing is. If only they hadn’t run across those troopers.

Jyn grumbles and Cassian shuffles back to safety as she readjusts herself, turning away from him to lean against the wall on her left side. She stares pointedly at the pool of murky water the splashed through on their way in, watching the occasional raindrop send ripples across the surface. He soundlessly hands her his jacket and she drapes it over her legs for warmth.

Cassian takes a breath, steadies himself and reverently pulls out the pins holding Jyn’s hair up. She smirks at the painstakingly delicate way Cassian goes about it, and is glad he can’t see the look on her face.

For the next few minutes there is nothing for her to feel except the drumming of the rain above her, the burning feeling of the deep laceration across her stomach, and the warmth of Cassian behind her. 

The easy pace of Cassian’s hands deftly loosening the tangles, the rhythmic beat of the rain pounding the roof, and the exhaustion of the day all tug her eyelids shut.

“I think I’m falling asleep,” she manages to say.

Cassian freezes mid-movement, fingers tangled in Jyn’s hair. He hesitates, painfully aware of his breath on her neck, as he gauges her hurriedly patched-up injuries. “You should be fine. Take a nap,” he says around the pins in his mouth. “We won’t get tangled up with those troopers again. And I’m almost done anyways.” He carefully tugs his hand free and stares blankly at the back of Jyn’s head, wondering how in the name of the force was he going to put her hair back up. “Well, except for the bun,” he admits sheepishly, taking the pins out of his mouth.

Jyn mumbles a reply, stretching her hand out and turning towards him so her back was pressed against the wall again. He presses the pins into her outstretched palm.

“What?”

“Too…. much moving… Leave it,” she struggles to repeat, hand dropping unceremoniously into her lap.

Cassian blinks, taking in the sight of his jacket tangled unceremoniously around Jyn’s body. “Alright. Sleep, then. I can keep watch. Kay will be here soon.”

Jyn doesn’t reply. He glances up at her, and she’s asleep.


	15. hidden in plain sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 18: secret 
> 
> a little scene that explains a headcanon I use in my cassian fic 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> post-vacation warmup :P

****“Cassian!” Jyn calls out in a sing-song voice, peering in through the doorway. He’s hunched over his datapad as usual, filling out another mission report.

“Cassian?” He doesn’t look up. Jyn makes a face. “Hey, uh, Cass?” 

Nothing. He’s absorbed in his work. Jyn admires his dedication and finds the focused look on his face endearing but she _really_ needed to catch his attention.

A smile tugs at her lips. “Hey, Captain?” 

Still as a statue. Jyn sighs and plops down on the bed beside him. An idea worms its way into her mind, something she had heard others use.

“ _Cassian Jeron Andor_ , are yo-”

Cassian’s head snaps up, hand frozen mid-sentence. “What?!”

The look on his face sends Jyn’s heart plummeting into her gut. “I-I’m sorry, was that rude? Did I cross a line?” 

Understanding works its way into Cassian’s shell-shocked expression. “N-no, sorry.  Did you call me before that?” Jyn nods. “I... I was just surprised to hear my full name.” 

“It’s in your file.”

“My file is highly classified and mostly on flimsi stored away in Draven’s drawers.” There’s amusement in Cassian’s voice but it doesn’t draw Jyn’s attention away from the hurt in his eyes.

“Not like your full name is a classified secret,” Jyn replies, picking at the bedsheets, feigning disinterest. “Not like that would stop me, either.”

“Jyn-it’s not-” He sighs and sets his datapad on the bed, the hint of teasing in his voice now gone. “I haven’t heard my full name in a long time.”

“Ah.” Jyn looks up from the fraying edges of the blanket twisted around her finger. “I understand.” 

Cassian averts his eyes. “It’s more than an identity thing, Jyn. Jeron...,” he swallows, the name catching in his throat, “Jeron is my father’s name.” 

Jyn makes a small noise, the unraveled fabric falling from her hands. 

“I didn’t know.”

“You wouldn’t have. It’s okay, it was just... a surprise. I haven’t...” He falls silent. Jyn lifts her hand in the air, hovering for a moment before setting it on his back. She doesn’t offer him anything else - isn’t quite sure what else she could say - so she traces a path down his back, eventually winding her arm around his waist and pulling him close. 

“It’s a Festian tradition,” he murmurs, leaning into her side. She hums in acknowledgement. “We give one of the parents’ names to the child.”

Jyn looks up at him, chin dragging along the fabric of his sleeve. “How do they pick?” Cassian tilts his head, hair sweeping across his forehead. “Which parent, I mean.”

“By gender, mostly,” Cassian muses. “I think. Sometimes if one parent has died, it’s their name. Or if one side of the family picks the first name, the middle name goes to the other parent.” Cassian’s forehead is riddled with lines as he tries to remember.  “I don’t really know for sure, though. Maybe they just go with whatever they feel like doing.” 

Jyn reaches up and swipes the hair out of his eyes. “You know a lot, given that you left so young.”

“It’s not enough, there are so many things I need to learn and-” he sighs. “It’s just too much to keep track of. Too many things I don’t know. So many secrets that might be lost forever.” 

Jyn buries her face into his arm, intertwining her fingers with his. “All secrets come to light eventually.”


	16. drops of history

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 20: gratitude. ♥
> 
> trust and love in a war where every step is history. (filling in the blanks and gaining another perspective.) 

 

_Breathe. Breathe._

Cassian forges a path to his ship through the bustling crowds, checking over his shoulder for any glimpses of white trailing behind him. He shrugs off his nerves like a coat, merging his profile with the swirling aura of people rushing around him. He bounds into the cockpit in no time, the copilot’s seat glaringly empty as he quickly commences the liftoff protocol.

_Breathe. Breathe._

And he does, sighing in exhaustion but not relief as he collapses against the back of the pilot’s chair. He sits there until his breathing steadies - until the tightness on his chest loosens its grip - and then works up the energy to unzip his jacket and fold it over the back of the chair. 

He notices his hands are shaking.

_Breathe. Brea-_

There, in the hollow silence of hyperspace, old fractures crack open once more. Cassian’s shoulders shake once, twice, too many times, and a strained gasp escapes him.

_Give yourself three minutes._

A sob wracks through his body. He grips the back of the seat to keep himself upright, the feeling of Tivik frantically grappling at him - for dear life, for salvation -  still burning on his skin. He closes his eyes but his mind does not spare him from the sight of his blaster pressing into warm folds, of Tivik crumpling to the ground. He can’t help but imagine - for he had long lost the strength to look - pain wipe away the desperation from Tivik’s eyes and replace it with an icy glare.

 _You killed me, Cassian Andor._ _And I will not be the last._

 _Why him? Why not_ him _?_  Every life he took felt like his own. Cassian’s fingers dig into the synthetic cushioning on the chair, and something wets the backs of his hands. 

 _The mission, the information, the Rebellion._ Yes, the planet-killer. He needs to inform them of the planet-killer. Or else Tivik’s death would have been a waste. 

The only thing Cassian hates more than killing, was unnecessary killing.

He opens his eyes with a sigh and takes in a deep breath of recycled air, pressing his hands to his face to wipe away the salty sting of tears. 

Three minutes, gone. 

Cassian sinks back into his seat, and sends a simple encrypted message.

_Superweapon. Galen Erso. Next?_

 

* * *

 

The shuttle creaks and groans as it traverses across Wobani’s snow-dusted, dreary landscape. Jyn had gotten used to the aching shuttle sometime after the first month of her captivity and its sounds of protest no longer rumble in her ears. She’s left alone with her thoughts and the falsely casual glances of the other inmates hunched over in their seats.

Everything is the same. As always.

She didn’t know what she was expecting, the taste of freedom having been rinsed out of her mouth by blood when she had first been tossed into her cell. 

But her kyber necklace digs into her collarbone, burning brightly and demanding to be remembered. 

_Trust in the Force._

Could she? When it had taken her mother and her father and her father and her freedom? The fragment was the only thing she had to her name - her  _real_  name - anyways. She doesn’t dare to hope, doesn’t know how to pray, but she finds some solace in the warmth hanging over her heart. She had done the best with what life had given her, after all.

_Right?_

Suddenly a new noise arises among the monotony, and then she is free.

“Hallik? Liana Hallik?” 

As free as she can be, sprawled out in the dirt. The burning of the kyber fades to a slight ebb, quieted by the return of the Rebellion.

“Congratulations. You are being rescued. Please do not resist.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The file shows up as a notification at the top of his screen. Cassian pauses filling out the mission report ( _informant: terminated_ ) and taps the link.

A face and a name. Every mission - every nightmare - starts the same way. A face and a name. A pair of green eyes stare right through him: disinterested and alert at the same time, her persona burning him even as the holo flickered with static. 

_Jyn Erso, daughter of Galen Erso._

A voices whispers to Cassian that this one will be different. For better, or for worse. 

He begins to read.

 

* * *

 

Jyn can’t think of anything except the answers. She doesn’t have to pretend to be a reluctant criminal, a bird just freed from her cage. That was the truth. She didn’t have to fake her distrust of the Rebellion because the last time she had seen them - Saw - they had abandoned her. Where was the Rebellion when her mother lay dead in the grass? When her father was dragged away right in front of her eyes? When she was waiting, alone and terrified, in the darkness of a bunker?

_15 years ago.  
I like to think he's dead. _

She can hold her own against this intelligence officer just fine. 

_I've never had the luxury of political opinions._

She knows he wants to argue with that point, and she knows he’s too good of a soldier to give in. But it gives her the incentive to fire back. 

 _You're all rebels, aren't you?_  
_What does this have to do with my father?_  
 _And if I do it?_

 

* * *

 

Cassian watches on as Draven jumps right into the interrogation. He would’ve chosen his words more carefully, asked questions that sliced her defenses away instead of poking and prodding haphazardly to induce a reaction. But Draven does elicit something from Erso - an almost undetectable twitch of the eyebrows, a slight pursing of the lips - when he says her birth name.

Good. She wasn’t invincible. 

Not that Cassian ever believed  _anyone_ was invincible (a spy knew everyone’s flaws including his own) but the girl had eluded the Imperials for thirteen years which was admittedly quite the feat. 

He could easily dismiss her as a textbook criminal. She trusted nobody.  _She_  couldn’t be trusted. She would be hard to work with, would try to escape at the first opportunity - and judging by the bump on Melshi’s head, that opportunity had already been taken. 

Most of the beings in the galaxy could be easily tossed into a box with a label at first glance. Despite the temptation, Cassian knows better than to blind himself to the full picture. He recalls Erso’s list of crimes, mostly petty but entirely against Imperials and the wealthy. 

So he decides to pursue the spark within and steps forward into the light. 

“We think you might be able to help us,” he says, cutting to the point beyond Jyn’s skepticism and Mon Mothma’s enthusiasm, hoping he’s right. He gives her a moment, long enough for Mothma to introduce him, and then he starts firing questions like clockwork. He pushes and pushes and -

_I've never had the luxury of political opinions._

A thousand memories spring up in his mind of every time he had to pick a side or face death, and it escapes as a controlled “really?”. He twists his surprise into disbelief and a segue into the  _real_  debate: “When was your last contact with Saw Gerrera?”

She needs to know her secrets aren’t hidden from the Rebel Alliance. 

 

* * *

 

Jyn gingerly holds the blaster in her hand, turning it over and testing the weight felt in her grip. At least, that’s what she made a show of doing. 

The part of her that wasn’t drowning in memories of the Partisans -  _come, my child -_  or preparing for descent into a warzone, was wondering about the man at the front of the ship.

Should she trust him?  _Could_ she trust him?

He is a rebel, and a spy.

So the answer would naturally be  _of course not._  

He had looked at her right in the eye, and saw her blaster -  _his_ blaster, taken from his own bag - in her hands and let her keep it. Had practicality outweighed risk? The towering droid in the copilot’s seat said otherwise. What was his motive, then? Would he use it as an excuse to dispose of her when necessary? Were those his  _real_  orders? 

 _Did_  he trust her? Then what expression of hers, what look in her eyes had earned her the right?

Jyn didn’t know, and wished she didn’t care.

 

* * *

 

Draven calls out and Cassian’s heart sinks into his shoes.

A face and a name. It always began with a face and a name. 

 _informant: terminated_  he thinks grimly as he positions himself in front of the General with a nod. 

“You find him, you kill him. Then and there,” Draven says simply, as if he wasn’t cutting a life short with his words. Cassian has to look away. _A face and a name. Always a face and a name._

Maybe if he was lucky, he wouldn’t have to watch Galen’s face contort with pain as he died. Maybe he could snipe Galen from a rooftop, his entire existence compressed into a handful of pixels in his scope. 

Maybe, Cassian would never have to bear witness to Jyn’s reaction.

Maybe they’d all die together on the mission, and he wouldn’t even have to lift a finger. 

But Cassian knew he’d never get the easy way out.  _He didn’t deserve it._

He works his jaw and nods, glancing back up at Draven before he turns on his heel and walks away.  

The flight to Jedha is uneventful. Miraculously, Jyn doesn’t blow his brains out with his own blaster, despite Kay’s repeated reassurances that she would. Instead, he finds her peering out the small viewport at the orangey brown haze that is Jedha. An invisible hand squeezes his heart at the sight. Yet another world torn to shreds by the Empire, like so many others he’d visited, like his own. 

The descent down to the surface is quiet, tension hanging thickly in the air between them. He glances over at Jyn, who’s hunched over with her elbows resting on her knees, clearly deep in thought or lost in some memory, and wonders about the years’ worth of yawning gaps that riddled her file. 

There is never enough time to wonder, as their ship skims the surface, nor did Cassian want to find the time to pity her. He shrugs on his parka instead. There was no place for pity in a war filled with pitiful existences.

He knows, because his is one of them. 

They trudge off the ship, their boots kicking rhythmically in the sand. 

Cassian is almost overwhelmed by Jyn’s presence at his side. 

He’s had partners on missions before, in the early days of his career where he was too young to even infiltrate an Imperial Academy - and, of course, another partner currently towers over them - but never had he worked with someone like this. His meetings with informants were always fleeting, his interactions during infiltration missions always informal. Distrust isn’t new to him, it courses through his veins like blood, but nobody had ever felt as alert or...  _familiar_  as the girl who walks by his side. 

Jyn knows who he is, and Cassian knows who she is. It’s unprecedented. 

He doesn’t have to worry about her abilities, the seemingly endless lists of minor charges and years with the Partisans were, surprisingly, enough for him. 

He hands her the viewfinders, and hopes at least  _this_  mission goes according to plan.

It doesn’t. 

 

* * *

  

Jedha, gone. Saw, gone. Bodhi’s home, gone. The Guardians’ Temple, gone. 

 _Saw, gone._ By the Empire’s hand.

 _Her father, gone._ By the _Rebellion's_  hand, no less.

It might as well have been Cassian’s. It almost was so she doesn’t let him slink away without consequence. She shines light on his lie, on the fury within.

 _My father -_ she almost chokes on the words _\- was living proof, and you put him at risk. Those were Alliance bombs that killed him!_

 _You lost my trust,_  she wants to scream,  _after I spent so many years withholding it from everyone._

She pushes, and pushes, and finally the spy snaps. 

She shuts Cassian’s words out, choosing instead to turn on her heel and storm off to some force-forsaken corner of the ship. Rainwater finds its way down the seams of her clothing, dripping off the edges of the fabric to pool on the floor where she sits. 

She doesn’t want to see him, doesn’t want to think about him, doesn’t want to hear him in her head, doesn’t want to feel the truth in his words. 

Regrettably (for her life) - thankfully (for the galaxy) - she does. 

 

* * *

 

Cassian’s ready for a confrontation. He knows when feels the hurt and fury simmering in her eyes, boring holes into his back as he dashes about the ship. She spits retorts at him like venom and he brushes them aside -  _you’re in shock, you’re in shock -_ using the same voice he uses with every agitated informant.

 _informant: terminated._  The words burn bright under his eyelids, Galen’s face and name swirling in his mind.

Cassian never had it easy. (He didn’t deserve it.) The only time - the  _only time -_ he ever disobeyed an order, the target dies anyway. To add insult to injury, this is the first time he’s had to deal with the target's  _family._  To look at Galen’s daughter in the eyes, knowing she could see right through him.

He and the Force really did have different priorities. 

Cassian tries to reach her with his words, make her  _understand_  the complexity of the situation but then - but then she says:  

“You might as well be a  _stormtrooper.”_ She hurls the insult and it cuts him deeply, all the way to his past where those very stormtroopers smashed down doors to drag mothers and fathers away from their crying children, troopers who killed without remorse and without hesitation. 

What does she know about stormtroopers? About serving a greater cause, no matter what the personal cost? Hadn’t she abandoned the cause built on his - and others’ - blood, sweat, and tears? 

He doesn’t care about her perspective now. She needs to understand that she is no different from the rest.

 _You’re not the only one who lost everything._ His eyes go wide, heart thrumming in his chest. She  _needs_  to hear him. _Some of us just decided to do something about it._

 _I hope you will too,_  he wants to say. 

 

* * *

 

She sits, trust shattered and life torn to pieces once again.

Chirrut’s voice rises in her mind.  _Things are broken only to be repaired,_ he told her when he found her sulking in a corner of the shuttle, far away from the others.  _Take your time. We will help you gather the pieces, but you’re the one who must put them together._

Bit by bit, she does.

When Cassian finally finds her - finds the nerve to find her - she’s already made up her mind.

“I’m sorry,” she says and she makes a face as if she’s surprised herself. An identical reaction appears on Cassian’s face, and he replies: 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry, too.” He sits down against the wall opposite her, feet barely touching. 

Jyn bites her lip. “You were right. I guess I should be grateful for the opportunity to help the Rebellion, to...,” she blinks rapidly, looking for the words, “do something about it.” 

“What are you going to do?” Cassian asks, looking up at her with curiosity, marveling at the broken woman who now shone with brilliance. 

Hope pays off, after all. 

“I’m going to tell the Rebellion to go to Scarif.” She waits, expecting him to dismiss the idea. Instead, he gives her a warm look that makes he realize she  _can_  trust him.

“I’ll be with you all the way,” he says with a small smile.

 

* * *

 

He keeps his word, leaving the rest of the crew behind as he makes his way around the base, gathering a small group of the Rebellion’s most dedicated - and most beaten.

He’s asked people to die for the Rebellion before, he’s  _killed_  people for the cause before, but this time - this time is different. He’s asking for death not  _because_  of orders, but despite them. (For Cassian knows that the Rebellion, caught in a web of democracy, would be too afraid to send the Fleet to Scarif. He knows this, and lets Jyn speak to them anyways, because what was a Rebellion without hope?) 

He has a feeling he won’t be filling out a mission report this time, and a weight lifts off his shoulders. 

She meets his eyes with distrust, and he hopes that this is the last wall between them. He wants her to understand, and this time, he’s gentle with her. 

She obliges, she  _understands,_  and then Jyn surprises him. Cassian knows how hard it is to admit one’s weakness, to admit the  _root_  of one’s suspicions, so he smiles broadly when she says: 

“I’m not used to people sticking around when things go wrong,” and Cassian remembers the names in her file. Lyra Erso, Galen Erso, Saw Gerrara... and maybe even himself.

Not anymore, though. “Welcome home,” he says, and he’s grateful the Force grants him the chance to say so. 

 

* * *

 

The rest, as they say, is history. The Rebels do their duty, etching the names of their saviors into their notes of thanks, but never realize this: 

Without Jyn, would Cassian have rebelled against the Rebellion itself? Without Cassian, would Jyn have even bothered to take up the Alliance’s banner?

Nobody with the answer lived to tell the tale. 

 

* * *

 

_raindrops join to become an ocean;_

_let’s join to become drops of history._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really thankful for these 20 prompts for easing my way into the writing part of fandom! Also, a big thank you to everyone whose liked/kudosed/reblogged/commented/read any of my fics.  
> Appreciation is what keeps things going & I definitely appreciate you guys! :)


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